One-Shots
by Warrichan
Summary: A series of little one-shots I've written. I will take requests for more, as I don't have too many ideas. Please R&R! (You can either PM me with your idea for a one-shot or leave it in the reviews.)
1. Tears

A door creaks softly, and the bitingly cold snowy wind pushes an exhausted young man into his apartment. He has to turn and shove the door closed, for the wind thrusting relentlessly at the door makes it hard to close.

He lets out a weary sigh and pulls down his hood. His greenish-black hair glints faintly in the glare from the streetlights that shine through the window. He takes off his coat and scarf and, after hanging them rather messily on the coat-hook, kicks off his shoes.

The dark-haired young man glances at the clock and groans. 1:36. And he has to get up at 4:30 and get ready so he won't be late for work. He yawns and heads for his room, eyelids drooping over his forest-green eyes.

As he walks down the hallway, he becomes aware of a small noise coming from his room. He frowns tiredly and walks a little faster. He stops in the doorway, and only then does he recognize the sounds for what they are.

A small young woman, a few years his junior, is laying on his bed. She has long hair of a soft reddish hue, which is loose and spread all around her. Her sapphire blue eyes shine with tears in the dim light, and she clutches one of his pillows. She's shivering, probably because she's only dressed in a short nightgown. She sits up when she sees him, eyes widening. He had been hearing the girl's sobs.

"Ahiru?" the young man whispers. "Ahiru, are you–"

He's cut off by the feeling of something soft but heavy slamming into his chest. He stumbles backwards and falls to the ground. Then he's feeling dizzy and looking into sky-blue eyes. She must have leaped off the bed and tackled him.

"Fakir," the young woman whimpers. "Fakir, I had a nightmare... and when I woke up, you weren't there. You weren't beside me."

"I'm sorry, Ahiru, I didn't know," he murmurs, stroking his wife's hair. "If I could've been home tonight, I would've."

She relaxes and climbs off of him. He yawns widely and holds out his hands.

Ahiru giggles and helps him stand. "Fakir, I wish you didn't have to work so late," she says softly. "I wish you could be home with me more often."

"Tomorrow's my last day of work, remember?" Fakir reminds her, hugging her close. "Then I'll be off for Christmas, and we can have the tree up and ready before Tuesday."

"Oh, right. I forgot." Her voice is muffled, as her face is pushed into his chest.

He ruffles her hair and rolls his eyes, but he can't keep a tired grin off his face at her forgetfulness. "Moron. Come on, let's just go to bed."

Ahiru looks up at him and takes his hand, that sweet smile spread across her lips. "Okay," she replies softly and pulls him onto the bed.

Fakir blushes. "Idiot, I need to change first!" he snaps, getting back up. "I can't very well sleep in a dress shirt, pants, and a belt, now can I?"

"You can sleep in pants," she points out innocently, sitting up and watching him get his pajamas out.

He glares. "I meant dress pants."

"Oh." She looks crestfallen.

He quickly changes in the bathroom and comes back out. He falls into bed with an exaggerated sigh, making his wife laugh softly.

"Good night," she says dreamily, turning towards him.

He steals a quick kiss from her lips. "Good night."

A few moments of silence pass before Ahiru quietly adds, "But it's really more like early morning anyways."

"Shut up and go to sleep, moron."


	2. Ravens

**Author's Note: Some stuff that happens in this short could be considered as Ahiru/Mytho. I just want everyone to know that I DO NOT SHIP THEM. I agree that what I wrote could possibly imply at least one has feelings for the other. But I don't ship them. It's more of a friendship thing. I don't know how to explain without spoiling the short. So read on.**

An agonized scream split the quiet air and broke Ahiru's concentration, causing her legs to wobble and almost send her crashing down. She paid no heed to her error as her blue eyes widened in panic. She knew that voice.

The young ballerina stood up and ran from the room, calling, "Fakir! Fakir, where are you? Fakir! Fakir, answer me!"

Ahiru raced down the hallway, pink ballet slippers sliding on the freshly mopped floor. She turned the corner and skidded to a stop, almost crashing into a white-haired boy in ballet clothes.

"Mytho!" she cried. "Did you – did you hear –"

The boy grasped her shoulders and spoke with an intensity Ahiru had never heard in his voice before. "Yes, I heard it."

"Was it – was it Fakir?" she asked, looking fearfully into the taller boy's eyes.

Mytho nodded grimly. "Come on, we have to find him." He released her shoulders and took the hand of the redhead standing in front of him.

Together they ran down the hall. "I think it came from outside," Mytho said as they reached the doors. Ahiru pushed them open with her free hand, and they both stepped outside.

The campus was empty.

"FAKIR!" Ahiru yelled, fear rising in her voice. "FAKIR!"

"Shh!" her friend hissed and looked around. Another shout, this one quieter but still full of pain, sounded from behind the school. Mytho dropped Ahiru's hand and sprinted around the building, Ahiru following close behind.

Black feathers filled the air, along with a sound like thunder. Ahiru shrieked and covered her face as thousands of crows lifted from the ground as one and flew into the sky. They split and began to dive at the girl, cawing loudly and slashing at her with beaks or claws.

"AHIRU!" Mytho moved towards her and reached for her hand. "TAKE MY HAND, AHIRU!" he screamed through the noise.

At first he thought she hadn't heard him. He couldn't see a thing through the mass of black feathers. He was about to give up, thinking he'd lost her, when he felt fingers brush his hand.

He gasped and reached further. "AHIRU!" he yelled, voice hoarse. "AHIRU!"

Ahiru's fingers clutched his desperately. He locked his fingers around her small hand and pulled with all his might. She struggled forward, squeezing his hand, frantically trying to escape the mob of ravens.

Mytho pulled her free with a hard tug. She cried out and tumbled towards him, but he caught her around the waist. "Are you all right?" he gasped.

"I'm fine!" she yelled, although her leotard and tights were torn and some of her hair was falling from the bun. She was covered in cuts as well, but still she insisted, "We have to find Fakir!"

Together they burst out of the rabble to see Fakir lying in the middle of the gazebo. "Mytho!" he croaked and weakly pointed to his sword. "Can you..."

"I'm on it," Mytho said determinedly and picked it up. Ahiru dashed to the dark-haired boy's side, letting out a cry, and knelt beside him.

Ahiru gently smoothed his bangs off his face. "Fakir, are you all right?" she asked, worry filling her voice.

"What do you think, moron?" he rasped painfully. "I just got beaten half to death by... ravens, and you ask... if I'm all right?"

She leaned a bit closer, strands of her red hair falling into her face. She pushed it back. "Where are you hurt?"

Fakir glared at her, then looked down at his chest.

She gasped and almost screamed, tears swelling in her eyes when she saw the bloody carcass of his shirt. She quickly removed her headband – the only item of her clothing that wasn't torn to shreds – and ripped it into strips.

"Can you sit up, Fakir?" she whispered.

He tried, but pain overwhelmed him and that terrible sound came from his throat again. Ahiru held him in a sitting position, which wasn't so bad but caused fresh bleeding again.

"I'm going to have to lean you against that pillar," she told him softly and moved him carefully to the side of the gazebo. She took off his shirt and wrapped his wound with the strips of the headband.

Meanwhile, Mytho was doing his best to fight off the ravens. He hacked and slashed, all of them dissolving into mysterious purplish-red dust when he hit them. Just as they used to.

But then, one by one, the ravens started to overwhelm him. "Mytho! No!" Ahiru cried. She looked around, searching for something – anything – she could use to help.

"My prince!" a familiar voice called. Ahiru gasped, spinning around.

"RUE!" she yelled and ran towards the dark-haired girl. "You have to help!" she sobbed. "Please, help us! The crows are attacking Mytho!"

Rue nodded. "All right, I'll try..." She bit her lip and then ran straight into the fray.

The thundering of a thousand wings beating sounded again, and all the birds let out a loud "CAW!" as they...

...flew away.

"Rue, that was amazing!" Mytho and Ahiru said at once. Rue smiled and thanked them. She stepped closer to Mytho and put her arms around him. Their lips met, and Ahiru blushed and looked away.

"Fakir, you doing okay?" she said, kneeling beside him again.

"I... suppose, idiot," he growled.

Then Ahiru surprised both of them by kissing him gently. "I'm just glad you're not dead," she muttered after she pulled back.

Fakir's face turned crimson, but he replied, "Y-yeah, me too."


	3. Thirteen

He awoke, eyes wide, panting. He sat up and ran his hands through his shaggy black hair, wiping the sweat off his brow.

This was, what, the thirteenth night in a row? Yes, the thirteenth night. Thirteen nights of the dreams. Thirteen nights of being plagued with his past.

Tonight's dream was about the cave. The cave with the underground lake. He'd almost lost his life in an intense battle against an army of crow-people. He'd cut the prince's sword in half and then fallen back into the water. Then... something happened. That green-haired puppet, Edel, had saved his life. The color of the green, the brightness of the fire as she burned... it was all fresh in his mind.

Later, he knew, would come the nightmares. The time that followed, where the prince was slowly consumed by raven's blood, and the princess – not the crow princess, but Princess Tutu – would be tested. He knew her feelings would shift, change, direct at him. Fakir.

He loved the princess. Fakir was in love with Ahiru. Always and forever.

She loved the prince. Ahiru was in love with Mytho. But her feelings would change, and she would love Fakir then.

How long had he loved her? When did he start loving her? His affections for her started that night. When he saw how upset she was for his life, he realized he was worried about her too. He cared for her. Maybe not romantically at that point, but that was when he first felt the spark.

On the thirteenth night, the halfway point, he started to fall. It seemed fitting.

Fakir knew the nightmares were only just beginning. He grunted and slid his legs off the bed. He stood, wincing at the stiffness in his legs, and walked into the bathroom.

He stared at his reflection. Skinny arms, long messy black hair, tan, that purple scar tearing across his bare chest. Wide, haunted forest-green eyes staring back at him.

He sighed deeply. Turned on the faucet. Splashed cold water in his face. Straightened back up. Went back to his room and flopped down on the bed, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

Thirteen nights. Thirteen nightmares. Thirteen to come.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry this one is a bit short, but I wanted to write one that centered solely around Fakir with no other characters. I also wanted to show that maybe Fakir thought of everything that happened in _Princess Tutu _was a nightmare he never wanted to relive. I know that none of them wanted to go through all that again, but I like the idea of Fakir having nightmares about it. Because I'm such a terrible person.  
Anyway, I hope you liked it!**


	4. Temperatures

Her hands are always cold, unfitting to her hot attitude and flaming red hair. Whenever her fingertips brush his skin he jumps and wraps his hands around hers. For a time he's able to keep her hands warm, but later her hands will return to their usual cool temperature.

His hands are always hot, unfitting to his cold attitude and dark green-toned hair. He used to consider this a curse, wishing his hands would just be a normal temperature. But now he thinks of it as a gift that he uses to warm her when she's cold. She can cool off his hot fingers in turn, but later his hands will return to their usual warm temperature.

They keep each other balanced in this way, she and him. He keeps her warm, she cools him off. Their temperatures oppose their own personalities; their temperatures match each other. They can't change it. They can only make do with what they have.

* * *

**A/N: Waah, I'm super-sorry this one is so short! I just wanted to write a little story and this is what came out. I was thinking about me and my BGF (best guy friend) and our hand temperatures, and I ended up writing a story with the substitutes of characters. However our personalities aren't the same as Fakir's and Ahiru's, lol. I'm like Fakir and Ahiru mixed, and he's more like... uhm... Princess Tutu. XD I'm sorry, but it's true. He's really sweet and caring. ^^**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed, and I'll be uploading another one soon!**


	5. Princess

His pale fingers gently wind through her soft dark locks. "My princess, you are beautiful," he murmurs as he strokes her hair. "You are truly the most beautiful woman to ever exist."

"Mm," she sighs, eyes closed and head resting on her prince's lap. "More beautiful than Princess Tutu?" Her voice has an edge to it.

He startles. "Rue, are you still jealous of her...?" He looks down at her, brown eyes wide with surprise. "After all these years?"

"I'm not jealous of her," she replies, frowning. "I know that you are mine, Siegfried. I just want to know: Am I more beautiful than Princess Tutu?"

"Of course." He speaks smoothly and easily, the words completely truthful. "She was never beautiful, compared to you."

Rue sits up and opens her cherry-red eyes to gaze at him. "Good."

Siegfried leans forward and puts one hand on her cheek. He gently presses his lips to hers, closing his eyes. She closes her eyes and kisses him back, smiling against his lips.

He pulls away and they open their eyes, lock gazes. She sits back against the tree and entwines her fingers with his. "I love you, my prince."

"And I love you, my princess."

The black-haired boy runs over to his parents, brown eyes gleaming. "Mother," he says happily, "Father, did you see that? Did you see how fast I am?"

"No, Fakir, I'm sorry," Rue says. "Would you show us again, please?"

The little boy nods and scampers off to a tree on the other side of the courtyard. "Hey, Ahiru!" he yells. "Come over here! Let's race!"

"No way!" A small white-haired girl calls back at him from where she's sitting by the pond, braiding flower stems together. "I can't run because I'm wearing a dress, and you always beat me! It's never fair!" Her red eyes flash angrily.

Fakir laughs. "Suit yourself, Ahiru!" He starts to dash, running back towards his parents quite quickly, dark hair flying. He shines in the sunlight as he hurtles towards them. Their little prince.

He stops beside them, panting. "How fast was I?"

"That was amazing," Siegfried says, smiling. "You'll be the fastest runner in the kingdom."

Their son grins and runs off to his sister. They can be seen talking, and the little boy's laugh echoes across the courtyard once more. Rue sighs deeply and squeezes her husband's hand softly.

"Do you still miss them?" he asks her, turning to look at her. "Fakir and Ahiru?"

"Of course," she breathes. "Ahiru especially. She was my best friend, the only one who was always kind to me and always believed I was still Rue."

He kisses her cheek comfortingly. "How do you think they're doing?"

"I hope they're married now, just as we are," she replies with a smile.

"With children named Mytho and Rue?" he jokes.

"Possibly," she agrees with a nod. "Possibly."

"I love you, my princess."

"I love you too, my prince."

* * *

**A/N: Aww, I love this pairing! Mytho/Siegfried and Rue are so cute together. And I just imagine that they might name their children after Fakir and Ahiru. Their son has dark hair like Rue's and brown eyes like Siegfried's, while their daughter has Siegfried's white hair and Rue's red eyes. I think Ahiru would be older. Ahiru would have a bit more of Rue's personality, quiet and reserved, while Fakir would be more carefree and brave, like Siegfried after his heart is returned. **

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this, and I'll see you next time!**


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